


I'll Find My Way Home

by gardakuka



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 'Cause it needs to get its own tag, Because it's 1966, But it's a Romcom, F/M, FIFA World Cup 1966, Football, London, Misunderstandings, Red Telephone Box, Sandor has Post-War Syndrom, Sansa is in Love, So Some Upsetting Themes will be Mentioned, Wrong address, attempt at RomCom, football rpf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22513678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardakuka/pseuds/gardakuka
Summary: Sansa Stark meets a young artist called Joffrey at the art exhibition and fells in love straight away. After hearing about a difficult period in his life, Sansa wants to cheer him up and gets a little present for her Prince Charming. She even asks her best friend to find out Joffrey's home address, so she can send him a letter with a pair of VIP-tickets for the World Cup final at Wembley Stadium. This gesture has to make Joffrey happy, that's what she is quite confident about.Sandor Clegane is a London Underground driver. He is known for his ugly mug and some great anti-social skills, but he's completely fine with it. He enjoys his lonely life, working as a driver and spending his free time watching TV, drinking and, of course, being a football fan. If someone would ask him about his dream, he'd say he would like to meet Bobby Moore in person, but where is Bobby and where is Sandor Clegane. Anyway, everything else in his life goes as it should, that's what he is quite confident about.One day, he receives a letter with a pair of VIP-tickets for the World Cup final.An attempt at romcom in the decorations of 1966's London. Some characters (?) will find their way home by the end of this story.
Relationships: Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark - onesided, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	I'll Find My Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> _"We must stop writing new ongoings!" cried Toad as he wrote another._
> 
> Thanks to the fresh wave of my depression and self-loathing, I wasn't able to catch the inspiration to update any other ongoing fanfic. Sitting there and doing nothing wasn't an option in my state, so yeah, another one fanfic. I'm judging myself for it, but meh. If writing down the idea which filled my head recently will help me to deal with my block, it's fine.
> 
> So, some things to be mentioned:  
> 1) If you'll spot any mistakes regarding the setting (I mean, I was born years after 1966), please let me know. I am doing a big research on it, but sometimes Google isn't your best friend...  
> 2) All real people mentioned in this fanfic have my utter respect.  
> 3) By mentioning some historical events (or making references to them) I didn't meant to disrespect these events or people who took part in them.  
> 4) Even though there won't be too many mentions of the historical events, with the exception of the 1966 World Cup.  
> 5) You can see a 1966 London Underground map here: http://assets.londonist.com/uploads/2019/04/beck_1966_page_1.jpg  
> Sansa's home stop is Wimbledon, and Sandor's is Upton Park.  
> 6) I suck at romcoms and fluff, so at some point it can become a proper d r a m a, lol, but I hope it won't.

Sansa was nervously pacing the living room, throwing impatient glances at the phone on the little table in the corner. Margaery promised she will give her a call around seven, and it already was half past, so Sansa was getting more and more anxious.

What if their plan wasn’t successful? What if Margaery’s brother wasn’t able to get the information Sansa needed so much? What if all her hopes were stupid and futile?

She was pacing the living room, a sealed envelope in her hands. She had prepared everything in advance, wrote a courtesy letter and put the pair of tickets her father brought her yesterday, and then sealed the envelope. She even put a stamp on it, the only thing she needed now was the address. Joffrey’s address. And Margaery had promised to get it for her best friend, so Sansa could get a chance to spend some time with the man she was definitely in love with.

The loud sound of the ring made Sansa jump on her place. She gasped and run to the little table, taking a deep breath, and finally picked up the phone.

“Sansa Stark speaking,” she said in the most calm way she was able to.

“I’ve got it, Sansa!” Margaery’s voice was full of joy and pride. It was also muffled by the loud cheering and singing. “Take a piece of paper and write down.”

“Give me a second,” Sansa nodded, not even thinking that her friend won’t be able to see her. She looked around and noticed the stub of a pencil on the thick telephone book on the table. The piece of paper was nowhere to be seen, so Sansa decided she will use this book to write down the address.

She opened a random page and found a free space on the top.

“I’m ready,” she announced, feeling a huge ball of happiness and excitement somewhere in her stomach.

“Good,” Margaery answered. “So, Joffrey’s name and surname are known to you, and the address is…”

“Marge, I’m sorry,” Sansa had to interrupt her, screwing up her face from a too loud noise on the other end of the line. “But can you speak a little bit louder? I have no idea what’s going on there, but I can barely hear you.”

“I went out to call you from the phone box,” Margaery explained with a sigh. “And there’s a street celebration outside, so it _is_ loud here. But I can scream, if you want.”

“A street celebration?”

“You’re the one who is trying to take a man of your dreams to the football and still have no idea what is happening in this ma-agnificent world of the ball-kicking right now,” Margaery laughed.

“Joffrey just needs something that can cheer him up, I’ve told you,” Sansa sighed. “I’m sure he will be thrilled to be able to see the final match at Wembley, you know.”

“And what if he doesn’t like football?” Margaery smirked. “He can simply send the letter back, returning your tickets and saying he isn’t interested.”

“That’s the thing,” Sansa grinned, throwing a glance at the envelope. “You see, I won’t write my address, but I have mentioned my phone number in a short letter. So, if he won’t be interested and will decide to return the tickets, he will give me a call, and who knows, maybe we could go for a date somewhere else!”

Margaery murmured something in reply, and it was quite hard to understand, was she so quiet intentionally, or was the connection affected by the street noise again.

“Anyway,” Sansa pouted. “What’s the address?”

“I’ll spell the street name,” Margaery clocked her tongue. “It’s _D-a-c-r-e_ , did you get it?”

“Uh-huh,” Sansa nodded, putting the name of the street on the paper, adding the number and putting a little _rd_ in the end. “And the postcode?”

“Spelling again,” Margaery answered and groaned something about too loud public outside her phone box. “It's _S-e_ , _e_ for _eagle_ , by the way, _one-three-oh_ -my-god-STOP IT.”

Sansan flinched at Margaery’s angry scream, as well as at the especially loud singer outside.

“Sorry, Marge, it was _e-one-three_ , right?” Sansa cleared her throat, tapping her pencil on the book.

“Exactly,” Margaery confirmed. She gave her the rest of the postcode as well, and Sansa checked one more time the words and numbers in front of her to make sure she got all information she needed.

“Thanks, Marge,” she smiled. “I owe you a lot.”

“I’ll remember your words,” her friend laughed. “Anyway, I’ll run out of money shortly, so we will see each other on Monday. And good luck with your plan.”

“Thanks,” Sansa grinned. “I’m sure Joffrey will like it.”

“Hopefully, he won’t be a type who likes to go out for these street celebrations,” Margaery was not amused with all that noise around her. “But anyway, if you will send this letter today, it will be picked up on Monday - how long do you think it will take him to receive it?”

“I’d say two days?” Sansa shrugged. “Maybe three, but it will be the longest time.”

“Then, somewhere on Wednesday,” Margaery hummed. “And you left him your phone number, right?”

“My _family’s_ phone number, but yes,” Sansa nodded. “Oh, Marge, you should come with me on Wednesday, so we can wait for his phone call!”

“That’s a nice idea,” Margaery giggled. “We’ll discuss it on Monday.”

“Deal!” Sansa beamed. “Then, see you on Monday!”

Margaery bid her farewell and put the phone down. Sansa did the same, her gaze focused on the letters she wrote with a tiny pencil. Then, she giggled.

“You look pathetic,” her sister noted, appearing on the doorway. 

Arya had a nasty habit to get on Sansa’s nerves, but at this moment Sansa didn’t care at all. She grabbed both the envelope and the phone book and run in her bedroom, leaving Arya alone with her unsuitable sarcasm.

She locked the door and put everything on the table, grabbing a pen her father brought her from his last trip to New York. She wanted to be sure the address on the envelope would look _perfect_.

Sansa made sure she was using her best handwriting, all letters visible and written. She carefully put the postcode in the end, and then went to the top of the envelope, writing Joffrey’s name more beautifully. She even put a tiny heart at the end of the last _n_ in his surname. It was so small for anyone to notice, but Sansa hoped Joffrey will see it straight away. She giggled and the thought and re-read the address.

Everything was ready.

Sansa hummed happily, taking the envelope and running down the stairs. Despite the time, it was still warm outside, so Sansa didn’t even bother herself to wear a jacket. She quickly put on her shoes, grabbed a key and went outside. There was a letterbox right around the corner of their street, so she decided not to make a big fuss over going outside and left her house without a single word to anyone.

Their neighbourhood was more or less quiet all celebrations and street parties were held somewhere closer to the city centre. Or Wembley, where Margaery lived with her grandmother and one of her brothers.

Sansa walked to the letterbox quite quickly, stopping in front of it and looking at the letter in her hands. Joffrey’s home address was written smoothly right in the middle of the front side, and Sansa ran her fingertips over them, grinning like an idiot. Her sibling would call her an idiot for doing something like this, but Sansa didn’t care.

Joffrey Baratheon was a man she was helplessly in love with. They met only once, but were able to spend almost a full day together, enjoying the new exhibition in one of her favourite museums and drinking coffee after that. They even strolled about the park in the afternoon and Joffrey offered his jacket to Sansa, the memory of the coarse texture still fresh in her mind. He was a perfect gentleman, and hearing that he was going through the toughest period of his life made Sansa’s heartache for his problems.

She wasn’t as powerful as the Queen, and didn’t even have enough money or connections like her father, but she wanted to help Joffrey at least to feel himself a little bit better. He had mentioned the upcoming World Cup couple of times during their stroll, and the idea to get him a ticket for the final match seemed like a perfect one. Sansa had no idea what was going in the world of the football, and she didn’t care about the tournament at all, but she wanted to make Joffrey happy. So, after spending a couple of afternoons with her father and asking him to get a pair of VIP-tickets for the said final, she shared her secret and idea to Margaery.

Margaery’s brother was attending the same university with Joffrey. More than that, he was involved in the work of a student union, so it wasn’t a big deal for him to get Joffrey’s home address and pass it to his sister. Who, in her turn, gave it to Sansa, who was now looking at it with a sheer amusement and hope. She even made a very stupid thing and brought the envelope to her face, placing a light kiss on it before throwing the envelope into the letterbox.

Arya was right, she was so pathetic, but at the same time, Sansa felt so light and happy. Her plan was perfect, and just in a couple of days, she will receive a phone call from her beloved Joffrey, who will thank her for the present and ask her out for a cup of coffee.

This summer had to become the best one in her life.


End file.
